With 100 Percent Accuracy
by thinking in blue
Summary: What are the chances her life goes as predicted by the game MASH?


"Alright Zatanna, I got your future calculated." M'gann clears her throat and reads aloud what she's jotted down, "You are going to marry Batman, and together you'll have 7 kids. You'll live in a mansion in San Francisco, and you'll get around on a purple camel. And you'll work as an assassin, until you're 65 and you retire. The end!"

About a week ago, some cheerleader friend of M'gann's taught her how to play MASH, a silly, party game that "predicted your future" through a sort of process of elimination. Artemis wants to find this girl, and smack her in the back of the head. Hard. She's loathed MASH ever since the third grade, when the kids in her class would play it constantly.

All M'gann's wanted to do for the past week is play MASH, with whatever unwilling victim she finds. This is Zee's eighth future (and strangely enough, the fourth time she's gotten married to Batman.) Artemis has so far avoided falling victim to her game (though she has been married several times to Wally, Robin, and Kaldur, and probably would be married to Conner too if M'gann ever let him play properly, and pick someone besides her as his wife.) She'd hoped her obsession with this childish game would wear off before their first annual Christmas Break sleepover, but it was to no avail. She knew she wouldn't be able to avoid it, and lo and behold, Zatanna and M'gann were looking at her with big puppy dog eyes.

"Artemis." M'gann says in a sing songy voice, "It's your turn."

"No." She says back, matching M'gann's pitches.

"Aww… come on Artemis, don't be a party pooper." Zatanna teases, "Don't you want to know what your future is?"

Artemis rolls her eyes, "It's a game of chance Zee."

"No it's not, it's a 100% accurate look at your future."

"It's a-" Zatanna doesn't let her finish

"One. Hundred. Percent."

"Please Artemis. What can it hurt." M'gann flashes a sugary-sweet 'how can you say no to me' smile.

She's going to regret this, "Okay, fine. Just get it over with."

They both grin and giggle at her acceptance, what is it about this game that gets people so giddy?

M'gann picks up her pen, "Okay, first I need five boys."

"Uh… Wally, Roy, Robin, Kaldur, and Conner."

"You can't pick Conner. Conner's my husband."

"Yeah Artemis, what are you doing picking M'gann's husband?"

Artemis sighs, "Fine. Make Superman my fifth then."

"Alrighty. now five numbers, for the number of kids you're having."

"3, 6, 2, 4, and 1."

"Five methods of transport."

"Bugatti Veyron, Lamborghini Veneno, Maserati Gran Cabrio, uh…"

Zee cuts her off, "Artemis, you can't just pick fancy sports cars."

"What, it's my future. I want a fancy car."

"That's not how you play. You have to pick something junky."

"But I don't want a junky car."

"Oh, is Miss 'This is a game of chance' actually concerned for her future?"

Touché. "Whatever. A minivan and a pair roller skates, _happy_?"

M'gann scribbles it down, "Five colors, for your mode of transport."

"Orange, because orange is a crazy color. And pink. And blue polka dots."

Zatanna sighs, "They don't all have to be crazy."

She finishes, "Then plain old, not crazy, black and white."

"Five places to live."

"Gotham City, Star City, uh… the moon," Artemis adds, before Zee can chew her out for being unoriginal, "Hawaii, and... Siberia."

"Lastly, five careers."

"Doctor, uh… World Dictator, Pilot, Law- wait, are you writing down hobo?" Artemis peers over at the notebook. M'gann's writing might be chicken scratch, but she can definitely make out the word 'hobo.'

"Hobo has to be on here somewhere." M'gann states. Zatanna nods in approval.

She sighs, how did she not hear about this said hobo rule? "hobo, and uh.. underwear model."

"Tell me when." M'gann draws a spiral in her notebook.

"When."

M'gann counts the swirls, which come out to nine, and crosses out every ninth answer until only one is left in each catergory.

"The results are in." M'gann announces, "Drumroll please." Zatanna pats on the coffee table. Artemis chooses not to join in.

"Artemis, you are going to marry Kaldur, and together you'll have three kids. You'll live in a shack in Hawaii, and you'll get around in a black minivan. And you'll work as an underwear model until you're 65 and you retire."

Artemis picked an unfortunate time to take a sip of her 7-up. Upon hearing her future, she spits it out all over the coffee table. It's still better than the soda coming out of her nose, which would have happened, as she was dying of laughter.

"Like that will ever happen!" She says between guffaws.

Their bungalow is tiny. There's 2 closet-sized bedrooms, a kitchen that's barely big enough for 2 people, and a bathroom that's _definitel_y not big enough for 2. What it lacks in interior space though, it more than makes up for in exterior. They've never regretted buying 15 acres of land on Moloka'i. They have a beautiful garden going, full of delicious fruits and tropical flowers, their own private stretch of the Pacific Ocean, a beautiful sunset and starry night sky, and more than enough room to expand if needed.

The first thing Kaldur's going to do when he gets home is start calling contractors.

He and Artemis been in the hospital for nearly a week, and they were both eager to get back to their little beach paradise, with their three new additions to their family. She'd given birth to three healthy baby boys, each with webbed fingers and little swirls of blonde hair their tiny heads. Today she and her boys were given a clean bill of health, and told they could finally go home.

It takes a while to drive back. The hospital is in the main city of Kaunakakai, which isn't very close to their little bungalow. The ride's quiet, both Kaldur and Artemis are relieved their boys sleep soundly in cars. When they finally reach home, the two sleepy parents will join them.

Artemis closes the door to her black minivan, so as not to wake the babies. She smiles to herself, thinking of something that happened nearly 10 years prior.

"Hey Kaldur," She whispers, "You think I should change my career to underwear model?"

* * *

There a lots of ways to play MASH, but I based mine on this site's version.

(/) playmash


End file.
